Myself in your Eyes
by ChocolateRou
Summary: Sirius finds a wounded werewolf in the snow and decides to help him. How will both of their lives change? What will they discover about each other, and about themselves? (Wolfstar; AU)


A/N: Hi, and thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy. If you did (or if you didn't) it would mean the world to me if you could leave a review. Constructive criticism is welcome too.

This story is set in an AU, it is Wolfstar (so it contains M/M of course) and it may reference more sensitive or triggering themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (if I did, I would have done a few things differently).

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The full moon shone down on the edge of the forest, pulling my attention to the dark red spots that dotted the snow. Following the small trail with my gaze, I was confronted with a figure that lay in the culminating puddle, obscured by the foliage of a wild bush. I stared for a second before the realization fell on me. I grabbed onto the nearest tree trunk, taking a few moments to regain my breath. "Well, there goes my only chance of finally getting some sleep tonight." I thought, taking a few shaky steps forward.

Now closer, I could see that what lay there was not human. A wolf, covered in a coat of light brown and dark grey fur, with a short snout and a posture too straight. "It's... it's a werewolf, isn't it?" My eyes feel on three gashes that had torn the skin, just on the right side of its flank. "And it's... alive" I took a step back by instinct when I noticed its chest rising and falling with shallow pained breaths. This could get dangerous, and I knew it. But it looked too weak to move, even after I had gotten close, so it was probably safe, right?

Moving back once again, I leaned against a tree, trying to calm myself down. I was usually brave and reckless, but the situation I found myself in was particularly delicate, so it required a little more thinking. On the other hand, I couldn't leave it (Him? Her?) alone to die in this cold. Someone or something had attacked it and abandoned it to suffer, and no one deserved that. No one.

As I looked around, trying to be as alert as possible, I felt it. The sudden feelings threatening to rise again, my stomach in a knot. But I didn't want to feel them, didn't want to deal with them, not now, not here. "Not ever." So I just shook them off, as if that would free me from them, and focused again on the situation at hand.

A wounded werewolf. Alone, abandoned, abused. Did he even have a family? Anyone at all? Had he been disowned for being different maybe? I took a slow deep breath and looked at the sky, trying to empty my mind. The full moon was now nearing the horizon. That meant that the lonely boy that lay battered in the snow would, sooner or later, get back into his human form.

And then what?

As the moon finally set completely, the wolf began to tremble and whimper. The pained reactions into ones of agony, with sudden jerks and quiet screams. I could only watch, in a mixture of horror and shock, as the fur disappeared and the limbs changed proportions with sounds of tearing and cracking. I was only able to move when it finally ended, and let out a sigh of relief.

From the former wolf form, a young man with tawny-toned hair had emerged. He was covered in a zigzagged pattern of scars all across his thin body and had the same three recognizable wounds on his side. I could feel my stomach drop, and before I knew it I was by his side. I didn't know why. Pity? Fear? Empathy? A righteous voice of morality? I let my hand touch his arm. He was too skinny, and much too cold. And there was only one option, or at least it was the only one that occurred to me. I carefully picked him up and started walking home. With steady but slow steps to ensure he didn't get hurt (or more hurt than he already was), I saw the further extent of his condition. Besides the big slashes that now stained my clothes, he had several smaller cuts everywhere, as well as bruises. He barely reacted at all, his breath irregular and hitched.

Before I knew it, I was pushing my front door open and walking into the warm and comforting air inside. After laying him down on the sofa by the fireplace and covering him with a thick blanket, I immediately went to the bookshelf in the corner of the living room. Not really knowing what I was doing, I picked out one of the only books about healing magic I owned. I didn't know much about it, having just tried a couple of spells a year or two before. But there wasn't another option, was there?

In the next hour, I tried learning and practicing the spells that seemed necessary. I knew this type of magic wasn't very safe if done wrong, but I needed to help him, so I made sure to repeat the words and gestures in my head until I had them memorized. When, after that, I knelt next to the sofa, book in one hand and wand in the other, I just hoped it went well.

The first flicks of the wand told me what I had to do next, and the ones after fixed the man's two broken ribs. The last one, aiming to heal the wounds, took a little longer. I couldn't seem to get it right. I kept trying, but as he let out a whimper, I decided to stop. The wounds had stopped bleeding, so it wasn't a danger anymore, even if they weren't yet completely healed. He did seem much healthier by now, his breathing stable and his color returning to his face.

The thought of it made me let out a long, tired sigh as the tension built up in my muscles seemed to dissipate. I dragged myself to the chair by the fireplace, rightfully tired. I sat and leaned my head back, observing the shadows that the crackling fire cast on the wooden walls. They seemed to dance gracefully, but proud and fierce still, confident in who they were.

Now, I knew I had done something good, the right thing to do, but after an hour of observing the flames and casting an occasional glance at the man on the sofa, I could feel a sense of doubt swell in my stomach. "Well… what should I do next? I can't exactly call the aurors, not even healers. He's a werewolf, he would probably be locked up, or worse. However, I'm not sure it's a good idea to keep him around. He is a werewolf, werewolves are supposed to be dangerous, right? What if he is just as dangerous in his human form? What if he wakes up and attacks me?" My thoughts kept up a conflicting battle for a moment, trying to decide whether to make him leave or not, until my eyes met his amber-colored ones, wide open and staring fixedly at me. It was too late to go back.


End file.
